She didn’t step forward to take it.
Zachary moved closer and tried to make her take it, and got the door slammed in his face for his trouble.The noise made me jump, and Zachary jumped too, backward.
He stayed on the stoop for a moment—in character.I could hear his voice yelling at the closed door.“Can’t you just take the damn pizza?Now I’m gonna have to eat it myself.I can’t bring it back and tell my boss we got the address wrong.He’s gonna take it out of my salary!”
The door didn’t reopen, so after a few seconds, Zachary stomped off the stoop and down along the walkway to the car.He opened the back door—“Stay in character,” I told him softly—and tossed the pizza inside, angrily.Then he slammed the door, and got behind the wheel, muttering.The car squealed backward down the driveway and burned rubber up the street.
“Slow down,” I told him when we were around the corner and out of sight.
He glanced in the rearview mirror.“Nobody following us?”
I did the same.“Doesn’t look that way.Did you do something that might make someone follow you?”
“I don’t think so,” Zachary said, taking off the ball cap and tossing it into the backseat, on top of the pizza box, before running his hand through his hair.“Although she seemed upset.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”He slowed down for a second to check traffic, before merging.“I guess maybe she didn’t want to be disturbed.And she didn’t want the pizza.”
“I noticed.I guess you get pizza for dinner tonight.”
He shot me a look.“I’ll pay you for it if you want.”
“That’s OK,” I said.I probably had more money than he did, and anyway, there might come a time soon when I wouldn’t be able to keep up with his salary.The pizza might get me brownie points for later.“So tell me about it.”
Zachary shrugged.“I knocked.Nobody answered.I knocked again.I was about to leave when She opened the door.”
The way he pronounced the word, gave it a distinct capital letter.
“I didn’t get a good look at her,” I said.“What did she look like?”
“Tall and blond,” Zachary said with a dreamy expression.“Like a goddess.Or a swimsuit model.”
“The kind of girl a sedate university professor might throw his wife over for?”
“The kind of girl any man in his right mind would throw his wife under a train for,” Zachary said.He pulled into a parking space outside Michelangelo’s with a squeal of tires, and stopped the car.“She looked like she was maybe twenty-two or -three.And real pretty.If I was her professor and she came on to me, I wouldn’t say no.”
I nodded.“Tomorrow, maybe you can do some computer research.See if you can find any kind of connection between the house in Crieve Hall and Steven Morton.For all we know he might own it—an investment property—and the girl is a potential tenant.”I reached for my door handle, and hesitated.“And if you wanted, you could hang around the campus for a bit.Undercover.Pretend to be a student.See if you see her again.”
Zachary nodded.
“Head over there in the morning.Take a look around.See what you can see.And then come into the office in the afternoon.I’ll take over the surveillance then.”
“Works for me,” Zachary said.“You sure you don’t want the pizza?”
“I’m positive.But thanks for asking.”I pushed the door open and got out.“Give Rachel a call and tell her you’re all right.See you tomorrow.”
“Take care,” Zachary said, and buzzed off.
I walked the few feet to the door of the Lexus, and hesitated.There was nothing to eat at home.And here I was, standing outside a pizza parlor.Artisanal pizza, no less.Hand-tossed, with gourmet toppings.The smell wrapped around me, yeasty and delicious, permeating my clothes and hair, making my mouth water.
I hadn’t wanted the lion’s share of a pepperoni pizza sitting in my refrigerator, calling my name.Much safer to let Zachary take it with him.He was twenty; he could eat most of a pizza tonight and not be five pounds heavier tomorrow.At forty, those days were past me.But I wouldn’t mind a slice of pizza for dinner.Maybe something with vegetables on it, to make me feel more virtuous about the grease and cheese and fat.
Did Michelangelo’s sell pizza by the slice, by any chance?
They didn’t, as it turned out.But they made individual gourmet pizzas with four slices.That’d only be half the amount of dough and cheese sitting in my fridge, calling my name.I ordered one, with a virtuous amount of mushrooms and red onions, olives and feta, and took it home.And ate it.All of it.
Hey, at least the leftovers wouldn’t sit in the fridge and tempt me.
